The Order
by Baliansword
Summary: After Hephaestion falls in a skirmish, Alexander begins to question his campaign –or whether Hephaestion should be there at all.
1. Awakened

Title: The Order

Author: Baliansword

Rating: PG-13 to Mature Audiences

Chapter: 1 of 3, "Awakened"

Summary: After Hephaestion falls in battle Alexander begins to question his campaign –or whether Hephaestion should be there at all.

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Drawing in a quick breath of air his eyes opened, focusing on nothing at first, but soon he saw the canvas of the tent above him. For a moment he did not understand, but slowly it began to come back to him as he heard sand hitting the sides of the tend around him. Again he found himself drawing in a ragged breath. He heard nothing but the wind outside and muffled voices, and slowly he lifted his head. The world spun and he felt bile building up in the back of his throat. Before he retched he lay back down and blinked a few more times, and then the sound of boot crushing into sound pounded in his head. Someone entered, but he could not find the desire to move his head. It hurt too much to breathe, let alone move. Yet he already knew who had come for him, it was unmistakable.

"Hephaestion," the king whispered softly as he sat down on the small stool next to the elevated pallet. He reached down and Hephaestion heard him wring out a small cloth, then felt the coolness upon his forehead as he blinked, trying to find himself in the haziness of the world. He felt his jaw tighten as he tried to push words out, but Alexander then reached out, placing his hand against his warm cheek.

"Shh," Alexander said, shifting so that he could better allow Hephaestion to see him. Hephaestion smiled slightly and felt his body loosen. "Do you remember what happened? Hephaestion…Zeus, I am so sorry."

Alexander tightened his hold on Hephaestion's hand, bowing his head and placing it against Hepahestion's muscled chest. Hephaestion drew in another breath and then raised his hand, placing it over Alexander's head, gently running his fingers through his hair. Slowly his mind was piecing together what actually had happened, something that he honestly could not remember until now. He recalled the battle, or was it a small skirmish? Alexander's forces had been moving, and suddenly he had turned his horse to the east. Riders were approaching, a few at first, but then clearly enough to start an attack. Hephaestion remembered calling something out, and as he'd expected, a fight broke out. He remembered fighting, then seeing a flash of a sword in the light, turning. The blade was meant for Alexander. What exactly happened next he could not recall, but knew only that he had pulled his horse to the side, rushed forward, and somehow his sword failed him. He leapt from the horse, fought, and then blackness. Thinking, thinking, nothing, nothing.

"I was knocked down," Hephaestion said slowly, as if unsure. "I hit my head…on a rock?"

Alexander lifted his head, unabashedly wiping a tear from his cheek and slowly drew in a breath, as if he had been injured, or worse, as if Hephaestion was not going to survive the injury. Hephaestion felt Alexander take his hand, gently weaving his fingers within his own. There was a silence between them as the king did nothing more than stare, slowly sizing Hephaestion up is seemed. Hephaestion took his free hand and touched the gash on his forehead through the cloth. It would leave a nasty bruise when it healed, but it would not need any stitching, and eventually all evidence of the incident would be erased. It was not something to fret so much over. Hephaestion wondered how many Macedonians lost their lives, and here was their king, consoling a man with only a small bump on his head.

"What is wrong," Hephaestion asked, his voice no longer haggard, but melodic to Alexander's ears. There was something between them, an invisible wall that Hephaestion was having trouble seeing past. He had felt it before at times, but Alexander would easily release it, telling him immediately what was wrong. This time, however, Alexander slowly shook his head, explaining nothing.

"I was worried about you," was his reply, which was far from a complete answer. Hephaestion felt restless, lying about while there were others to help. Slowly he began to push himself up, and Alexander leaned forward and helped him as if he were a fragile child. Alexander backed away as Hephaestion placed a hand between them. He then placed his hands on Alexander's cheeks and kissed him softly, quickly, on the lips before looking at him. Blood covered his chiton, but apart from a few cuts here and there it was not his own. Hephaestion looked at him again, deep into his eyes, and asked again.

"You can tell me," he assured him. "There has not been a day when you did not tell me what troubled you. I wonder, has that changed in battle?"

"No," Alexander quickly interjected. "No, no, it is not that Hephaestion. You will forever be my confidant, my best friend, my lover, my soul. Everything that I am, you are, and there is nothing that I would not tell you."

"Apart from what you think of now?"

"No, what I think of now I must reflect on myself. Tomorrow, tomorrow when you have had some time to rest, I will tell you what it is that troubles me. For now I am just glad that you are alright."

Alexander took Hephaestion's hand and kissed his knuckles, then released his hand as others approached the tent. Hephaestion gave him an ever-knowing smile. He was a king, and others would need him, now more than ever. Alexander nodded as he rose, but turned back to Hephaestion before leaving. He could not explain all that he was feeling, the horror that had crept over him when he saw Hephaestion lying on the field of battle. He could not explain what he was thinking now, that perhaps this could all have been avoided. However, he knew that he could not leave Hephaestion without reassuring him that everything was alright. He could not leave Hephaestion without reassuring himself that nothing had changed.

"Had something happened to you, I would have changed places in Hades' hall in an instant."

"Had something happened to me," Hephaestion replied, "I would have refused your offer, and dined alone."

Alexander basked in Hephaestion's love for a moment before turning. As he exited the tent Hephaestion caught a glimpse of the awaiting generals. He recognized Ptolemy and Cassander, Cleitus, a few others. The battle had not been so destructive then, if the generals were still standing, and so far he did not hear many screams of wounded soldiers. Perhaps there were only a few injured. He hoped that this would be the worst circumstance.

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_Four days later…_

Hephaestion ran a hand through his hair as he stepped out of the tent. Alexander had long since decided that a few days of rest would benefit all of the campaign. However, Hephaestion had noticed that Alexander had been distant. He had spent time with him yesterday, but Alexander seemed more interested in his soldiers than anything. Hephaestion could not fault him, and he knew that it was not the time to require attention from his king, but from his friend it was unusual not to spend time together. Alexander had also never told him what it was that was troubling him. Hephaestion had asked again, but the question fell upon deaf ears. Perhaps he would never know, and mayhap he did not need to know. Still, the distance growing between himself and Alexander was enough to upset him ever so slightly, not with anger or unease, but rather with a sharp pain.

He thought about all of this as he made his way to Alexander's tent. He still did not know what he was going to say, but he knew that something was wrong. Slowly he was coming around to the idea that Alexander's thoughts centered around him. All the more reason he would like to know what they were. Pausing just outside of the tent he turned and stared at the vast deserted region around them. The sun was high in the sky, and no one seemed to pay attention to the fact that Hephaestion was standing outside of the king's tent. His guards even looked away from Hephaestion, knowing that he had access to Alexander at all times. Hephaestion then entered the tent, crossing his arms over his chest when he saw Alexander sitting before a pile of parchment, most likely old letters from his mother, or other courtesans. Alexander did not greet him, did not even lift his eyes.

"Have I done something wrong," Hephaestion asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He stood, unwavering, and watched as Alexander's head snapped up. He dropped the letter and stood, crossing the distance between them. Alexander wrapped his arms around him, pulling him to him, and Hephaestion dropped his crossed arms and wound up hugging him back.

"You have done nothing wrong," Alexander said, realizing his fault in not better explaining to Hephaestion what he felt. He stared at him as he pulled away and gazed at the gash on Hephaestion's forehead. He frowned slightly, and then turned.

"You should leave the bandage," he said.

"What troubles you, Alexander?"

"There are no words," Alexander said, turning back to Hephaestion, who stared at him longingly. Yes, there were no words, however, Hephaestion did not deserve nothing. He deserved an explanation. Alexander would lose him without one, and he knew this. Already he had spoken to Ptolemy, who advised Alexander speak to Hephaestion on the previous day, or that he bury the feelings he was having forever.

"I feared losing you," Alexander said as he took a seat. Hephaestion took a seat across from him, which seemed so far away. It seemed too far away. "I wanted to keep you close, so close Hephaestion, but I did not realize that in doing so I would be risking you to these barbarians. I…I don't want you fighting. I don't want to lose you."

"Alexander," Hephaestion said, the fog clearing in his head, "you will never lose me. I knew what I was doing when I fell in love with you. I knew what I was doing when I leapt from that horse. Alexander, look at me, you knew what war was when you decided to come here."

Nothing else was said. Hephaestion leaned over and placed a soft kiss on Alexander's forehead. He then stood and left, saying nothing more. Alexander watched him go, and then planted his face in his hands. Hephaestion was right, he was a soldier. However, Alexander did not love his other soldiers in quite the way he did Hephaestion. He mourned the loss of those that fell, but if Hephaestion fell, if he allowed him to fall –it simply could not be.

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A/N: As always, reviews and comments are appreciated and welcomed.

For those of you that have been waiting for me to write something, I am sorry for keeping you waiting. Nothing else I produced seemed to be good enough, so here is something to begin with. A short fiction, and then, following, a much longer (and likely better) Alexander and Hephaestion epic.

Baliansword


	2. The Order

Title: The Order

Author: Baliansword

Rating: PG-13 to Mature Audiences

Chapter: 2 of 3, "The Order"

Summary: After Hephaestion falls in battle Alexander begins to question his campaign –or whether Hephaestion should be there at all.

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_The next night…._

The campfire was surrounded by the generals, many of which drank and boasted of victories from the months before. There were only two that did not enjoy the festivity of the night. Alexander sat across from Hephaestion, by choice. Hephaestion seemed not to care, perhaps due to the fact that he felt rejected. Alexander stared at him, and as if his flesh was burning Hephaestion glanced up and then quickly looked away. Turning his attention back to Cassander, who was discussing conditions in Pella, Alexander let Hephaestion continue laughing with Perdiccas and Ptolemy. However, Cassander's words were empty. He did not care about Pella, he cared instead about the blue-eyed god that sat across from him, the lover that once could not take his eyes from him who now could not force himself to look in his direction. The wine he had drunk already did not soothe him, so he poured another cup and continued to drink while Hephaestion continued to spend his time with the others.

"I think you forget," he heard Hephaestion say to Ptolemy, who had been discussing what riches he would like to take back with him to Alexandria after they conquered Persia, "that once Persia is conquered there is plenty of the world left."

"We will be old men by the time Persia is re-claimed as our own. A new force will have to march with the aged Alexander while you and I rot in the ground."

"Perhaps," Hephaestion agreed, forcing a light laugh at such a grave matter. It was then that he saw Alexander shift out of the corner of his eye. Though the king thought that he did not pay him any heed, he had in fact watched him drain his cup several times, all the while worrying that his temper would get the better of him tonight, as it had on many other occasions. Alexander parted his lips, as if to speak, but paused. When it seemed that he would say nothing, Hephaestion turned his attention back to Ptolemy –but it was then that Alexander raised his voice.

"You think that you will die," Alexander asked, his words slurring together towards the end of his question, which to Hephaestion sounded more like a statement; an enraged statement at that. He could not find the words to respond, and instead shrugged. It did not matter. Alexander was already going on, the anger showing in his eyes if not on his face. "Do my own generals think that my plans are so flawed that they will be sacrificed for the sake of Persia?"

"Alexander," Ptolemy began.

"I was directing that to Hephaestion," Alexander insisted, cutting Ptolemy off. He continued to stare at Hephaestion, who had looked away from him, almost as if he did not want to be there at all. "Hephaestion?"

"You know that I did not mean…"

"But you implied it!"

"Alexander, set your cup down," Hephaestion said quietly, his spirit breaking. Around the fire the others had grown quiet, understanding that Alexander's wrath was directed at Hephaestion for reasons they could not understand. Hence, they could not attempt to soothe the king.

"I am king," he spat. "You will not order me about. You are a general, _my_ general, and you will keep your mouth shut about death, and about…"

"Excuse me," Hephaestion stood, the soft wind causing hair to swirl around his shoulders. He turned his eyes to the others, but truly spoke to Alexander. "I have had enough to drink, and while I enjoy your company, I am tired. I'll be silent in my tent."

Alexander watched Hephaestion as he left. Suddenly he seemed to sober, and inside he cursed himself. How could he say such things, treat Hephaestion as if he were property? No one around the fire said anything. Alexander stood, and he too then sauntered off to a restless night's sleep.

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_Two days later…_

The days had passed and nothing seemed to change throughout the camp. For the most part there was a solemn silence, and a great distance between the king and any of his caravans. He preferred to spend his time alone, as did his greatest general, and neither were seen near one another. When Alexander was at a campfire, Hephaestion was not. When Hephaestion saw Alexander approaching, he would excuse himself for the night. Hephaestion had noticed it as equally as others had, but he was the only one that seemed to worry about it, or so he thought. It was because of this that he decided his wound could be pushed aside, for after all there was a tournament to be conducted. Granted there were only a few men involved, most being only new, younger soldiers, it would still be away to pass the time. Hephaestion dropped the broken scrap of wood and then stretched his arm out. The men involved in the wrestling tournament were gathering, and there was no sign of Alexander. It was probably better off this way, Hephaestion figured, since he and Alexander were no longer speaking. He had tried to initiate a conversation the previous morning, and Alexander had ignored him. Well, not ignored, he decided, but instead spoke to everyone else within a mile radius before turning back to him. By then, Hephaestion was gone.

"Ironic, isn't it," Cassander said from a larger log he had pulled over to perch upon. He cut into an apple with a sharp dagger he'd been carrying at his side since Egypt. He glanced back up, catching Hephaestion's eye. "The one that bashed his own head in is now going to play foot soldier."

"I thought you would appreciate it," Hephaestion casually tossed back. "One less general makes you that much closer to stealing Alexander's throne. Isn't that what your father instills upon you?"

"Stop now," Ptolemy interjected, "before someone ends up dead. I'd hate to have to explain what happened to Alexander. He's been in a sour mood the last few days."

"Perhaps Hephaestion has not obliged him."

"Cassander," Ptolemy snapped. Cassander was no fool, he knew when to stop. He said nothing, but continued peeling the apple, muttering something while he did. Attention shifted from him to Hephaestion, who removed his breastplate and now stood only in his chiton, half of his bare chest exposed. Another stepped into the now-ready circle and removed his own breastplate. His name was Ziegesar, and Egyptian that had joined Alexander shortly before. Nothing needed to be said. Both positioned themselves across from one another. Ziegesar launched a pre-emptive strike, lunging at Hephaestion who easily shoved him back with a shoulder. He was doing well, considering that when he moved too quickly his head spun. It did not matter though, this was better than being confined in his tent, fretting over Alexander.

Meanwhile, Alexander turned another page of the _Iliad_, which for the first time was becoming redundant and saddening all at the same time. Again and again he read through Patroclaus' death, and the pain that this caused Achilles. It was his demise. He shut the book and leaned back on the pallet, cursing faintly. Outside he heard a few cheers and pushed Hephaestion out of his mind, which tragically did not succeed as he stepped out of his tent. In the distance he watched as Hephaestion tumbled to the ground with Ziegesar. Cursing, he rushed to the makeshift arena, doing all that was in his power not to break into a run. As he approached the cheering subsided, but before he could order Ziegesar and Hephaestion to stop the quarrel, Ziegesar managed to knock Hephaestion to the ground, successfully pinning him, but also allowing for Hephaestion's forehead to directly impact against the hardened ground. Cassander whistled, either to warn Hephaestion of Alexander's presence, or to congratulate Ziegesar.

"Stop," Alexander shouted, ceasing everything. As Hephaestion stood Alexander glanced at the rest of the men that still stood around the circle. He glared at them, and they knew well enough what to do. Slowly they sauntered away, Ziegesar leaving only after Alexander waved a hand at him, and after he shook Hephaestion's hand. Hephaestion watched the others leave, but knew that he was not to move. Alexander stared at him, pinning him in place it seemed. Hephaestion defiantly crossed his arms over his chest and nodded, saying nothing but following Alexander back to his tent. Once inside Alexander whirled around to face him.

"What are you thinking," he demanded, going as far as to shove lightly against Hephaestion's chest. Hephaestion kept his ground but replied.

"We were only passing time Alexander."

"Passing time? Your head is already deserving of a bandage, and you mean tot ell me that you want another? Do you long to die Hephaestion? Am I so despicable that you are willing to leave me?"

"You are a fool," Hephaestion replied, shaking his head.

"No," he answered, "I am your king. As your king I demand that you pack your things. I'll have you escorted back to Alexandria. You can remain there, watching over my lands while we continue to Babylon."

"Alexandria?"

"Or Pella," Alexander screamed. "But you will leave this caravan tomorrow. Do you understand me?"

Hephaestion nodded, his face veiled slightly as he stared down at the ground. When he lifted his head and his hair fell back the tears in his eyes seemed to shine. Alexander felt his heart tear, even though he knew that he did this for the best. He loved him, but in order to protect him, he had to let him go. His temper calming he reached forward in hopes of placing a hand against Hephaestion's cheek. He needed to explain, to tell him why he was sending him away. It was not that he did not love him, but he loved him far too much. Instead Hephaestion raised a hand, forcing Alexander's hand away.

"I will leave before you wake," Hephaestion said, the pain cutting through Alexander like a dull blade. Hephaestion gave no other sign that he was hurt, merely blinked the tears away. He then reached for the pendant around his neck, a pendant that Alexander had given all of his generals. Without touching him he dropped this in Alexander's hand and then turned.

"I resign," he said over his shoulder as he made his way out of the tent. Alexander waited for his silhouette to disappear before dropping to his knees. Acid tears burned his cheeks as he gripped the pendant, holding it close to his heart.

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Hephaestion shoved the last chiton into the small sack. He didn't need anything else, the rest belonged to Alexander. Many of the items had been gifts, but gifts befitting a general. To take them would not only be pointless, but would remind him of what he was leaving behind. As he pulled the sack closed he glanced over his shoulder, watching as Cassander entered, arms crossed over his chest. He looked confused, but probably already knew that he had resigned. News spread fast in camps where there was no other news. Hephaestion turned back to his work.

"It he going to chain you outside of his tent like a pet," Cassander asked, coming forward and examining the bag. Hephaestion smiled, a bitter smile, but then shook his head.

"I resigned," Hephaestion answered. "I leave in the morning."

"What do you mean you resigned?"

"Alexander decided he would send me to Alexandria," Hephaestion explained. "What could I possibly do in Alexandria? So, instead, I resigned. I'll return to Pella, but on my own terms."

"It was a fight, he did not mean for you to leave."

"I am his general," Hephaestion said sharply. "I do as he commands of me. If he commands that I leave, then I leave. There is no reasoning with a king, not when you are beneath him."

"We both know you are not a general, Hephaestion," Cassander inserted with a raised eyebrow. "By Zeus, put that down. By tomorrow he will have calmed down and everything will be as it should have been. He'll explain he was angry, and as always you will stay at his side."

"No, he is done explaining things to me."

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Alexander stood in the complete darkness, shroud only in the chiton he still wore and the moonlight. He wondered if Hephaestion slept, or if he too was restless. Alexander knew that he had wronged him, wronged him as only he could –because he loved him. Slowly the sun was breaking over the horizon, and he could hear others beginning to stir. He knew that Hephaestion stirred, he was in tune to Hephaestion's schedule.

"I don't really want him to leave," Alexander admitted to Ptolemy, who had tried to sneak up behind him. Ptolemy soon was at his side, nodding. "It is not my goal to get anyone killed, but we all know that soldiers fall. Hephaestion cannot fall, not under my orders. I love him too much to lose him."

"Well," Ptolemy replied, "I think you have already killed him."

Alexander turned his head.

"What? Do you think that sending him away was going to please him? Alexander, he loves you more than Dionysus loves wine. If you want to protect him, protect his heart, since you are the one that seems to break it."

"And if he dies in battle?"

"Then he dies in battle. He lives, and he loves, and he dies loving you, right up until the very last moment. Send him away, and he does not die for years, but in truth, he is a dead man walking."

Alexander remained as Ptolemy left. It was still too early to safely leave camp, and not many others were awake. He thought for a moment, knowing all along that sending Hephaestion away was a pre-emptive decision. Ptolemy was right, he needed to protect him from himself, which would be much harder. Suddenly realizing that it might already be too late, he turned and made his way toward Hephaestion's tent.


	3. Reluctance

Title: The Order

Author: Baliansword

Rating: PG-13 to Mature Audiences

Chapter: **3** of **3**, "Reluctance"

Summary: After Hephaestion falls in battle Alexander begins to question his campaign –or whether Hephaestion should be there at all.

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How many times had he wondered when this day would come, the day that Alexander would take the obligation of king first and foremost? It should not have surprised him, but for some reason it still did. The shock had set in early, but it still lingered. His heart still skipped a few beats now and then, and when he had stopped crying last night burns scourged his cheeks. Somewhere, deep down, he had known all along that it would end in this way. It would end in death.

As he lifted the saddlebag it felt heavier than it had before, as if a hundred rocks had been placed at the bottom. Pushing the thought aside he placed his breastplate on the bed, it belonged to Alexander now, and turned to leave. As he did, the king himself stepped through the tent, blocking his entrance. Hephaestion said nothing. He remained standing, purposefully pushing his shoulders back and resolving to keep his head held high. Alexander did not speak, but he made no attempt to mask his pain. Hephaestion had seen him stand before him as he did now only once, just after the death of his father.

"I don't want you to go," Alexander whispered quietly, his arms hanging at his sides, as if unsure if he was still welcome in Hephaestion's arms. Hephaestion said nothing, for what was he to say? If he remained this would only happen again, somewhere far down the road. Alexander would always worry for him, but didn't he know that every waking moment he longed to protect him as well?

"Well," Hephaestion said, using the most diplomatic voice he could find, the one he used to arrange peace talks in Egypt. "I can't be here, and in Alexandria, at the same time, can I? I'm following orders, my King."

"Hephaestion," he pleaded as his companion went to step past him. He reached out, knowing his touch would be unwelcome, but barred Hephaestion's exit none the same. Hephaestion froze at the touch upon his forearm, and slowly he directed his eyes to meet Alexander's. Alexander noted his pain, and knowing that he had been the cause troubled him all the more.

"Then I order you not to leave." Hephaestion shifted, pulling away from his grasp. Yet he had not run away, not yet, so perhaps he was making progress. On the other hand perhaps nothing was going to change, not now, not after demeaning Hephaestion in an unimaginable way.

"I resigned."

"It was dully noted," Alexander answered. It had been, as well. Not until much later did he realize that Hephaestion had truly mentioned leaving, and meant it. It was not until the pendant burned in his hand. Only then did he realize how reluctant Hephaestion was to stay. But he went on, "Hephaestion, you cannot fault me for loving you."

Cerulean eyes stared back at him, unsure on his intent for a moment. Slowly Hephaestion's features softened, and he placed his palm against Alexander's cheek. Alexander leaned in, needing his touch more than he had before. Hesitantly, Hephaestion leaned in and placed a soft kiss against his companion's forehead. He then pulled away, pain returning across his face, blurring his soulful eyes. Had he truly lost him so easily, Alexander asked. Not even had he lost him, but had he been foolish enough to be the cause of the loss?

"I have to go," Hephaestion whispered. "We both know that you cannot accept my being here. You fear too much, Alexander. How can I ever be your general if you will not let me do the things that you would require Ptolemy to do, Cassander, Cleitus. Where I king, and you were my general, and I told you not to fight –how would you react? I know you Alexander, sometimes better than you know yourself. You would throw a fit, call me a fool, resign, and build up your own campaign. Don't worry, I'm not amassing a new regiment. I'm just giving you the space that you need, for as long as you call for it."

"You don't understand," he began, but for the first time Hephaestion cut him off, speaking before he could interrupt him.

"You did not give me the opportunity to understand. Instead, you hid from me, denied me, outcast me from all that I have ever known. Alexander, there is no mending all that you have done. Some wrongs can be fixed."

With that Hephaestion brushed past Alexander, this time not fretting over the hand that reached out to catch him. He pulled the canvas bag over his shoulder and strode to his horse. As he did so he noticed that a few of the generals had gathered, and though they tried to act as if they were involved in conversation, it was clear that they had come to see his exit. Ptolemy tilted his head toward him, his eyes saddened. Hephaestion responded with a soft, yet depressive, grin as he slung the bag over the horse, then pulled himself up. Turning the horse, he watched as Alexander continued to follow him, clearly not admitting defeat just yet.

"I only cared for you," Alexander stated, placing his hand on the steed's neck, holding the rein so Hephaestion could not turn him further away. His voice was lowered, but Hephaestion knew well enough that he would eventually elevate it, not caring what others thought about their relationship. Cassander, on more than one occasion, had assured them both that there was no sense hiding something that everyone else already knew. Leaning forward, he replied.

"I let him win," he admitted quietly, striking Alexander without touching him. "Sometimes, you have to admit your own defeat in order to save your opponent's pride. Don't you see, Alexander? If that boy continued to lose, and lose, his confidence would be nothing, and he would surely fall in battle. Show him that he can best his opponent, and then, then you are training a soldier."

"Don't go."

"I vowed never to leave you, but I also vowed to always do what you asked of me," he reminded him. He gave him a soft, saddened smile. "I am unable to lie to you, I don't want to go, but I don't want to be your burden either."

"Get off the horse."

"I can't."

"Here," Alexander said, taking his own pendant from around his neck, ripping the cord as he pulled it off in haste. It was a Macedonian seal, which showed that he was king. There was not another like it, and as Hephaestion traveled home he would easily be able to go through any of his territories, without problems. However, this was not truly why he gave it to him. He too was Alexander. He then walked away.

"Alexander," Hephaestion called out. "Alexander take it back."

"It belongs to you," he tossed over his shoulder, casually entering his own tent as Hephaestion followed on horseback. He threw himself onto his fur covered pallet and waited until Hephaestion entered. Hephaestion set the pendant on the nearest desk, and again tried to depart.

"Hephaestion," Alexander said, sitting up, placing his hands on his knees. "Sit down, just for a moment." When he did he continued. "I have made a terrible mistake, as a king, a friend, a lover. You see, I had a general that every leader dreams of. He organized things I could not even plan myself, kept morale up, taught his soldiers, kept them from harm, arrange treaties and peace talks, he kept everything in line. But, he went beyond that, because he believed in me. He believed in not only my campaign, when others never would, but in me –in me. He loved me, Hephaestion. But, I am my own demise. I let him go, I ordered him to go. I didn't mean it, you see, I fell in love with him, more than anyone has ever loved. I only meant to protect him. Instead, I smothered him. What would you advise me to do, friend? From now on, I am not a king before you."

"And you refuse to let him go?"

"Without him I am nothing."

"Then perhaps you should ask him to stay," Hephaestion replied, a single tear sliding down his cheek. Alexander leaned forward, brushing the teardrop away. He then gently pressed his lips to his forehead, moving slowly to the corners of his eyes, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, his chin, and then he brushed against his lips, barely touching him at all.

"Stay," he asked.

"Forever," Hephaestion whispered before he pressed his lips to Alexander. And with a kiss, the fate of an empire was sealed.

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A/N: And, the end. Aww, kind of short, but sweet. I'm working on an epic right now. The first chapter is going to be this entire theme, but it will then move on to actual conflicts where we see Hephaestion's work as a general, Alexander's as a king, and how they work together, etc.

As always, thank you so much to all of my readers, and all of my reviewers.

Baliansword

1-10-2008


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